American Fractal

Cutlery

74 Cutlery for Kim everywhere I look there’s more of it a silver steak knife in the sewing kit a golden spoon bookmarking the yellow pages ads for dry cleaning tennis lessons I lounge on steel tongs I look in the mirror & a pair of forks have become my earrings their ornate handles bounce against my neck when the toilet won’t flush I find the bowl stuffed like a turkey with salad forks & soup spoons the plunger won’t work I reach into the dirty water & pull it takes both hands & all my weight to rip them out I fall backward & it’s raining cutlery bare arms shielding my face from the tinny drizzle I don’t know where all this is coming from it’s like the house is sweating metal shiny little droplets of perspiration form in every shady crevice every crack it comes in all brands & shapes oneida rowand sterling fancy spoons diner spoons baby spoons with rubber linings knives of 75 infinite sizes an array of forks bent with bizarre unnamable purpose some of it is cheap but a lot is expensive I can tell the junk I just toss down the cellar steps but the stuff worth saving I hide under my bed I hoard them until I have full sets though how I’d entertain forty-eight people I have no idea I haven’t left the house in five years so maybe it’s revenge I think maybe the walls are just sick of me & this is all the defiance they’re capable of I stand on my coffee table & twirl eyeing the plaster well it’s finally working I say you’re driving me crazy but the walls hold firm at night it’s impossible to sleep I roll over & utensils clang in the sheets they poke at me through the pillowcase & I’m pitching them to the floor a blind woman in a sinking canoe I heave & I heave until my arms ache & there’s so much to sort by sunrise ...